One Last Chance
by Vampirekissesx908
Summary: No one is really able to understand the feeling of loss and emptiness unless they have experienced it. Amy experiences this when her parents are both killed in a car accident. She copes by keeping herself busy, but in the end it only makes her feel worse.


_This story is written in first person, in Amy's point of view, however, it is somewhat written in second (you) sometimes, but that's just to describe the emotions that Amy is feeling. __I'm sure you'll catch on.  
And also, I will update my other stories soon. I should probably hurry up before I get an idea for another story. Lol._

_Review!_

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You are so fragile, torn inside, and no one is really able to understand the feeling of loss and emptiness unless they have experienced it. Your heart is empty, but there is something there, a little light shining of potential. But the darkness overshadows the light. The darkness is overwhelming, and you are blinded.

_I didn't want to believe it. This was _the end_, I was so sure of it. I could feel something was going to happen today. But never had I imagined it to such an extent, and never had I imagined the way it was going to end. _

_I was simply a teenager; what did I know about my life and what I wanted? The truth was I didn't know. None of us can really understand something until we've lost it. We can't understand how it is to feel loss, to feel sadness, until we have experienced it._

_And that day was the day my life came to a complete standstill--my life as I knew it was over. It was a terrible, abysmal premonition that burned with horrid depth into my chest. _

_There was no actual warning, just a simple intuitive feeling of mishap. _

_I stood on the side of the intersection of the highway in pitch dark, walking to the diner, as I usually did. I had a car, but I wanted to walk that day. And on the street where the diner was I heard a screeching noise of car tires._

_I jolted behind me, and I could see a car somewhere off in the distance. I could not tell who it was, however, because I was just walking up to the diner, and the car was on the opposite street, making its way through the four lane._

_And that was when I saw it--the car had made a complete stop now. Three, but then ten cars crashed. I ran down the sidewalk to observe the accident, getting ready to call the police to report a multiple collision._

_But my phone fell from my hand to the ground and my mouth opened with horror. I screamed but no sound would come out._

_It was today that my life was taking a tragic turn--a long, angsty trip down hell._

Someone had already called the cops. Police cars and ambulance raced to the street, but I had no reason to meet them at the intersection. I knew how it had gone down. My parents were dead.

"Hello, Amy? What are you doing!" my boss Arianna yelled from the kitchen after noticing me staring off into space at the counter, while food was burning in the stove. She came out of the kitchen and shook her head, dissatisfied. Her jet black hair fell slightly to her shoulders, her eyes glaring furiously at me.

"Oh," I said, racing to the stove to turn the stove off before everything burned. I quickly got the fries out and tossed them messily onto the plate. The hamburgers were slightly dark, but I wasn't going to cook new ones. I had ten minutes until it was four in the afternoon and I had to pick up John and Robbie from daycare.

"Amy, what is wrong with you?" Arianna said, following me into the kitchen. "I understand the thing with your parents, but your work is lacking."

I ignored her comment, because I could not afford to let that get to me right now. Keeping myself busy was the best way to remain solid. "I know," I said simply, fleeing the kitchen and balancing three plates on my arms, which I was not good at. I placed them on the counter-top where the customers were waiting impatiently. The guy grimaced at me, but I paid him no attention.

I sighed as I returned to the kitchen, Arianna watching me with shame. "You've taken off two days this week, Amy. Two _days_! We don't have enough employment around here for _anyone_ to take off any days at all. I need you to work double shifts the rest of the week, or I don't think you can get your paycheck. We don't have enough money to hand out unless it's earned."

I couldn't work double shifts. "I can't," I said. "I can't work that much. I have to pick up my son and brother at four."

"Do what you must," she said, and I knew there was no way to convince her. I needed to work, but I needed to be there for John and Robbie more. But I couldn't support them without money. I could hardly support them now.

I walked out the door, got into my SUV, and drove out of the parking lot.

Just one year had gone by. It was one year later, and I was nineteen years old. I was in college, and I knew that wouldn't have been possible if I didn't get the scholarship. It wasn't Juilliard, but it was a college, so maybe I'd have some career in the future other than the cheap diner.

I lived in a small apartment with my sixteen year old sister Ashley and both John and Robbie. Ricky didn't come over much, but John went to his apartment often.

John and Robbie had to go to daycare after school because Ricky and I both worked, but we knew we wouldn't be able to that much longer. And that worried me. The daycare was for babies and toddlers, but John and Robbie were both four, and they were exceeding the age limit. The daycare took into consideration the situation, but soon enough they couldn't do that anymore.

I pulled into the driveway, and silently pulled out as they both silently got into the car. They were both fearful every second of their life. John hated the tension in the room whenever Robbie was near. He hated how everyone was so emotional and how the room was often filled with an awkward silence.

Robbie had not spoken one word since Mom and Dad got in the accident. He had been in the car with them, and he, somehow, was the only survivor. I'd taken him to the doctor to see if there was anything wrong with him, but there was no brain damage. Nothing. He was going through shock.

He hardly ever smiled, never laughed, and his face was constantly lifeless.

I backed into my driveway and silently got out of the car. It was already dark, and it was only four thirty. I hated the winter because it always got dark so early. California nights usually didn't get to freezing, but the air sometimes felt cold anyway.

Helping the kids out of the car, I got out my key and struggled to unlock the door to my apartment. There was a small noise behind us, of another car pulling into the driveway, and John turned around and hugged himself to my leg. "What was that?" he cried.

"It's just a car," I said, finally getting the door open. I flipped the lightswitch on and shut the door behind me. And then I made dinner and John and Robbie ate, but I didn't eat anything. It was only six o' clock, but I made them go to bed.

I carried John down the hall, and Robbie followed us, and he stood in the corner while John was whining. "I'm not tired!"

"I don't care," I told him firmly. John pouted and then went to bed in his room. I shut the door to their room; they shared a room because it was only a two bedroom apartment.

And so it was finally the weekend. I wanted to do something this weekend, something that would keep me occupied so I wouldn't have time to think. So my decision was made, and I called my best friend to ask if she could babysit, and I waited for her to arrive before I left the house.


End file.
